


The Words You Preach Will Cause Your Fall

by Belbe



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Abuse, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arrogance, Books, Domination, F/M, Intimidation, Magic, Manipulation, Satanism, Stockholm Syndrome, Submission, Supernatural Elements, Torture, Witchcraft, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-02-04 17:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18609172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belbe/pseuds/Belbe
Summary: Ever since I first saw Faustus Blackwood and heard his voice, I've been wanting to write this. It's been almost half a year - about dang time I made work of it.Probably slight spoilers for the show after the first few chapters.About Faustus Blackwood channeling his hatred against humans on a mortal woman - after which he learns that mortals shouldn't be underestimated.





	1. Chapter 1

The bell on the door clanged and the woman behind the counter perked up, ready to greet the new customer.

“Welcome to Cyprian’s Antiquities, may I help you?”

It gained her a perturbed look from the man that entered the bookstore. For a moment the shopkeeper was taken aback by the gaze he shot her. If looks could kill…  
Then again, it was not her first customer with a sour mood, and she was confident she could turn this around, too. She simply nodded at the man, taking notice of his old-fashioned black suit, then continued labelling and categorizing the books she was working on. The sour and dusty smell of the worn old tomes brought a smile to her face.  
She was about to start flipping through the pages of a volume that looked particularly interesting, when she noticed that the customer had approached her counter.

“Yes, sir?”

From closer by, he was dressed even more old-fashioned than she had thought. His hair was slicked back, like she’d seen in historic movies, and he donned a cane with a carved head, of what seemed to be a white rabbit. He was even wearing a white cravat. The stranger could be going to a costumed event, though his expression was far from festive. Even now, he was avoiding her eyes, as if he wanted to be anywhere else, rather than here.

“I’m… Looking for a particular book. Word has reached me I can find it here.”

His voice was unexpectedly deep, with a rough, almost growling accent to the lowest tones. The shopkeeper suppressed a shiver. It was a… pleasant voice, one could say, although intimidating.

“We’ve got all kinds of collections here, sir. If you could tell me what exactly you are looking for, I could find it for you.”

The man slowly nodded, not impressed, and glanced to the sides before he spoke again.

“It’s a book about the dark arts - the cover should depict a peacock holding a key-”

“-With Sumerian script on it?”

The man scowled at her, seemingly irritated by being interrupted. She hastened to correct her mistake and rounded the counter, apologizing while she passed the brooding stranger.

“I’m sorry sir, I should have let you finish that sentence, but I know exactly what you are talking about…”

Her hand soared over the books on an oaken shelf, leather and stitching gliding past her fingertips. They came to rest on a worn, dark blue back, the leather creaking between her hands when she pulled it out. She’d held it several times now, yet she couldn’t get enough of it. And as always, it’d be sad to let a volume she loved go.

She startled when she realized the man was right behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach. From up close, the perfume he wore was almost overpowering. It was a heavy smell, fragrant with musk and herbs that she could not name, and it made her head spin.

What was more, his mood seemed to have changed entirely as soon as he noticed the book. His hands were hovering in between them, demanding to hold it, and he couldn’t take his eyes off it. With a tinge of hesitance, the shopkeeper handed him the tome, relieved when the heavy weight was passed from her. Only then she noticed how long and sharp this man’s nails were. Almost like claws.

“Yes… This is it.”

He seemed to be speaking to himself rather than to her, but she didn’t mind. Obviously he was glad to have found this particular book, and she wasn’t about to take that from him.

“If you’ll follow me sir, I’ll wrap it in something protective so it’s safe to transport it,” she smiled at him and tried to get past him. Immediately, he grabbed upper arm in a vice grip.

She startled and tried to protest, but the look he sent made her pause.

“If any books similar to this one come in, can you set these apart?”

The tone of his question wasn’t particularly malicious, nor was it overly friendly. She only sensed urgence in it, and decided to give him the benefit of doubt.

“I could. I’d need your name and contact information so I can notify you when we acquire the volumes.”

“Good.”

The grip on her arm loosened and the shopkeeper quietly breathed out in relief. She gathered behind the counter again and grabbed the velvet fabric specially crafted for wrapping the older books in, aware of the brooding eyes of the stranger still on her.

“Could I have your information please, sir…?”

“Blackwood.”

“Nice name,” she smiled, grabbing the register behind the counter to make a note.

“What do you even know...”

She blinked for a second and looked up at Blackwood, unsure if she understood him correctly. The man stared back at her with a half-smirk, amused at the indignance in her eyes, it seemed. Why did it seem he relished in trying to belittle her?

“...That your name is centuries old and that is has quite the _bewitching_ history in Greendale.”

The smirk disappeared from his face, and the shopkeeper tried her best not to grin. There was a reason that she worked here, and that the owner trusted her with keeping the store all by herself. Greendale and its surrounding had a deep, dark history, and the shopkeeper spent years studying it. The Blackwood name had returned several times involving witch rituals, and she assumed this man was tied to the family she read about.

“The price of the book is…”

Blackwood gave no further reaction when she handled the rest of the sale, and pulled out a purse made of what seemed to be brocade, thick and heavily embellished. The shopkeeper almost expected the strange customer to pay with gold coins, but he offered her normal notes, with a whiff of perfume attached to them.

After handling the money and contact information, she made sure the book was carefully wrapped and handed it over to her peculiar customer.

“I hope you enjoy it. I loved reading through it when I had the chance to.”

That seemed to spark his interest, and Blackwood considered her again.

“...You have read it?”

“Several times, sir. I love old books and I am studying them. This volume in particular has handmade illustrations, which makes it so valuable. I’m glad it’s going to a good home.”

Blackwood smiled and looked down at the wrapped tome, rubbing the red velvet with his thumb.

“...What’s your name, child?”

“Siobhan Nash, sir Blackwood. Although I’m pretty much an adult.”

“...Force of habit,” the man smiled wryly, clearly annoyed at being corrected again. Then he nodded at her and turned to the door. The bell clanged again, Blackwood was gone, and Siobhan sighed in relief, realizing she’d been tense all the time. She could still feel the place where Blackwood had gripped her arm, as if his nails were still digging into her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of the female character is no coincidence at all. Siobhan means "God is gracious", which strengthens Faustus' disgust for mortals after he learns her name, and it's a warning as not to underestimate humans.
> 
> The family name "Nash" has an interesting legacy as it's tied to the ash tree, and about the ash tree the following is said:  
> "Elsewhere in Europe, snakes were said to be repelled by ash leaves or a circle drawn by an ash branch. Irish folklore claims that shadows from an ash tree would damage crops. In Cheshire, ash was said to be used to cure warts and rickets. In Sussex, the ash tree and the elm tree were known as "widowmakers" because large boughs would often drop without warning."
> 
> What does this mean for Faustus Blackwood? Stick along to find out :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now I'm sorry I didn't write this earlier. Writing Blackwood is such fun. He's so EVIL and PETTY and such a "classic" MAN™ XD

The darkness of Faustus’ office was held at bay by a dozen candles and lamp light, which threw a warm glow over his newest acquisition. The shopkeeper had been right, as much as it annoyed him: the book was beautifully illustrated, and rich with knowledge, which he hungered for.  
The shopkeeper. He gritted his teeth, feeling his earlier annoyance rise again. It had pained him more than he’d like to admit that he had to go down to the town of Greendale himself, and to have to exchange words with a miserable mortal. One who had openly looked him in the eye, even. If only he didn’t have to keep this particular book a secret from others in the Church, he would have sent the Weird Sisters to retrieve it.

 _Pitiful girl,_ he thought. _I could have killed her with a few words, and yet she dared acting that arrogant to me._ Then he realized he’d already given the woman more thought than she deserved, and returned his attention to the scarlet spell that embellished the page. A wicked grin deformed his face when he thought of the possibilities of this incantation, and the silence in his office grew even more unsettling.

* * *

 

The second time the bookkeeper crossed Faustus’ mind was when he received a most unexpected, but equally pleasant visit two weeks later. He couldn’t help but smile when Zelda Spellman settled in the chair before him. Many would call her the perfect example of what a good witch should be: skilled, fully devoted to the Dark Lord, and utterly respectful towards him, the High Priest of the Church of Night. Someone worthy of his company, and utterly mesmerizing to the eyes, on top of that.

“To what owe I the pleasure of your visit, sister Zelda?”

Blackwood leaned back in the chair, while the witch before him switched legs and adjusted her bright copper locks. She gave him a most delightful smile, scarlet lips widening above pearly teeth, her pale eyes glistening.

“Father Blackwood, the pleasure is equally mine. It’s good to be back again in the Academy, if only for a swift moment. But family matters require I ask your guidance, Father.”

The following minutes were spent with Zelda explaining the troubles she had with her niece Sabrina, and the doubts the younger witch had about her dark baptism.  
Faustus listened patiently to her and assured her he would look into it. The stray black sheep would have a place among the other students at the Academy, and the Dark Baptism was one of the most sacred ceremonies of the Church of Night.  
Surely he could convince the young lady of her importance in such a ritual and of the necessity of it.

Zelda thanked him gracefully and bowed her head to him while leaving his office, and once more, Blackwood couldn’t resist stealing a glance at her full figure when she left, wondering what she’d look like without the lustrous black dresses she always donned. _A certain shopkeeper could take an example on Zelda’s grace and care,_ he though. _Another example of why warlocks and witches were superior to mere mortals, and not to be treated as equals in any way._ He grimaced when he realized he was thinking about the young woman again - Siobhan, wasn’t it? - and he wondered why she wandered through his mind. His earlier good mood started to disappear now he was reminded of her defiant eyes, and of the glee with which she made the remark about his name. How much did she know?

It might be worth looking into, and if needed be, he could take the steps to make sure she was properly silenced. Faustus looked at his nails, imagining how they would look covered in mortal blood.  
Maybe it wouldn’t be necessary. Maybe he could take another look at the book he just bought, and when he returned to the store, if ever, make use of these newfound spells.  
_A little experiment, with nothing really wasted if it’d go wrong,_  he grinned. _Let’s see how arrogant she’d be if she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything out of her own volition unless he said so.  
_Yes, these thoughts pleased Faustus, and there was a dark spark in his eyes when he drank from his wine, relishing his sinister fantasies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning! Torture, violence.

It'd gotten dark and rainy, and just when Siobhan thought it was about time to close the shop, the bell clanged softly. She thought he wouldn't return, but there he was, clad in a black and maroon suit, looking sharp yet old-fashioned. _Like blood spilled in the shadows_ , she thought.

"Sir Blackwood, welcome! You've received my notice?"

Faustus smiled coldly at her and retrieved a handwritten note from his pocket. With an elegant gesture, he placed it on the counter, tapping with a long nail on the brown ink.

"When I saw you've gotten not one, but two copies of interesting books, I _had_ to come by, miss Nash."

Siobhan almost frowned. Something seemed off. Last time this man was here, he looked as if he'd rather set the store on fire than spend another minute there. And specifically talking to her had seemed to upset him.

It was not the first time the shopkeeper had met someone that despised women. A certain dean of the local school spent his time calling her "pop" when he last was there and kept asking for Jeremiah, the owner of the store. There were more, and she was convinced this Faustus Blackwood fit that same mold. So him being _friendly_ made her suspect something was up.

"Certainly," she smiled nevertheless, and carefully dug up two books from the chest to her side. One was so old, she would have to repair it if it was to be used frequently. Siobhan carefully placed both on the counter, explaining the state of the worn book to Faustus Blackwood, who listened patiently and nodded several times. Then he spoke, looking at her inquisitively.

"So you repair books as well?"

"I studied for that, among other things. I could use a new cover, or repurpose the original cover and use authentic techniques so it would look the exact same. The latter will be more expensive, though."

"I see."

Blackwood nodded at the books, then focused on inspecting one of his sharp nails.

"Tell me, miss Nash. Last time we met, you seemed to know somewhat of my family history.”

 _Ahh. There is it_ , Siobhan thought.

“Some of it sir. I’m a historian, too. Greendale has a long and interesting history, and I moved here because the place intrigued me. Your family is one of many who go long back,” she added, in what she hoped was a disarming way.

“We do, indeed.”

His voice turned sharper, and his eyes flickered upward, staring straight at her. They were dark brown, and nothing comforting lay in them. Siobhan suddenly was glad there was a counter in between them, even if she didn’t know why. She nodded politely and tried to start talking about the books again, when she realized Faustus was mumbling something.

“ _...Whisper, mumble, scream, and shout, let the honest truth come out._ ”

All of a sudden, it felt as if her mind was in a vice grip, as if needles were protruding her skull and digging into her brain. Siobhan shouted, and she heard Blackwood laugh sadistically. What had he done?!

Both her hands gripped at her forehead, clawing at the skin there, as if she could pull the pain away. It was futile, of course, and she stumbled back, trying to reach the door to the back alley. Blackwood mumbled another sentence, this time in Latin, and just when she reached for the doorknob, her body shut down. Her knees weakened below her and she staggered and fell, knocking her head hard against a shelf. Dark spots swam before Siobhan's eyes when she sank onto the floor, realizing she couldn’t breathe either. She could feel, she could think, but she couldn’t move a finger, couldn’t even blink. Panic coursed through her while she heard the dry click of the door lock, and saw Blackwood turn over the sign from “Open” to “Closed”.  
She heard his steps near while he calmly rounded the counter, chuckling to himself.

“Well, well. You’ve found yourself in quite a predicament, don’t you, miss Nash?”

Her lungs stung and screamed for air, and Siobhan lay terrified, starting to lose consciousness. _I’m dying. I’m going to die. Help, someone… Anyone… Any… o… ne…_

“Oh, it seems you can’t breathe if I don’t allow you to. My bad,” Blackwood chuckled, and suddenly Siobhan regained control over her body.  
Her gasp echoed through the store while she struggled to inhale air, sweet air, that burned her from the inside. Siobhan coughed and winced, but couldn’t get up. It was as if her limbs were stone, held down by a strong, invisible force. She could only helplessly stare around and heave, trying to stabilize her breathing. She still couldn’t say anything, but slowly, her panic ebbed away and made way for a deep fear.  
Opposite of her, Faustus Blackwood had grabbed a chair and calmly sat himself down opposite of the pained shopkeeper.

“Now, now, sit yourself upright. That’s not fitting posture for such a young lady.”

Invisible iron strings pulled Siobhan upright and she exclaimed in pain again when she unwillingly sat upright, her head resting against the wall behind her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m hurt. My head.”

Siobhan then realized she could talk, but there was something weird about it.

“I see, you just took a nasty fall. It didn’t kill you though, so you should be fine.”

A cold chill ran through her spine. Not a single emotion had crossed Blackwood's face when he said this, except for disdain. Whatever he was, this man had a grudge against her for who knew what reason. Through what she suspected was black magic, he held her life between his fingers. He could command her to move, to stop breathing, if he wanted that. All she could do was look at him with terror in her eyes. He looked back delighted, seeming all too pleased with himself.

“Do you know what I am?”

“...I don’t know exactly. A warlock, probably. A satanist.”

Siobhan realized by now that somehow, she was bound to say only the truth to Blackwood. He cast a spell on her, fantastic as that might sound. Would he hurt her even more if he forced her to say something he didn’t like?  
Meanwhile, Blackwood stared at her pensively, thinking about his next question.

“Did you know about witches before?”

“No. I thought they were fantasy. That the witch hunters killed doctors and medicine women.”

The warlock’s face turned grim when he was reminded of that particular part of Greendale’s legacy. The Church of Night had taken massive losses back then, that only had been repaired in the last few decennia. There was a lot to hate mortals for, but these sins were among their gravest.  
Siobhan whimpered when she felt her throat close off again. She struggled, tried her hardest to make a movement, to catch a bit of precious air, but Faustus Blackwood clenched his fist while looking furiously at her, and she couldn’t do anything. Tears welled up in her eyes while she felt closer to fainting again, and when the grip around her neck released again, she starting crying.

“You’re scared, aren’t you, my child?”

Her tongue felt thick and her sobs made it hard to talk, but she obeyed his command to tell the truth.

“I don’t want to die. I’m terrified.”

Blackwood stood up from the chair and slithered closer to her, taking her in from close by.

“You’re a mess, poor mortal. There’s nothing you can do, can’t you?”

Siobhan finally managed to avert her head, to look away from him, but she knew it was only because he allowed it to. His nails dug into her chin and pulled her back to him, forcing her to look at him from just a few inches away. His sickening perfume filled her nostrils again, and she tried to tell herself this was a nightmare, and she would wake up soon. She bit her lip, tried to hold her sobs back, tried to be strong.

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. I despise people like you, little Siobhan. Mortals have no place putting their nose where it doesn’t belong. I’m going to come back, and you will be my little rat, my test subject for whatever I find in these books you’re going to sell to me. Of course I will pay for them - no need to have you fired when you’re so easy to find right now.”

If she was scared before, every single cell of Siobhan screamed for escape now. This man was insane, and so, so dangerous. He would kill her. He would definitely kill her. As soon as he left, she would run, away from here, back to her birth city, back to-

“Ahh. But I’ll make you forget what I did to you, of course. Unless I’ll want you to remember, you’ll only know me as a faithful customer who’ll pay you a most memorable visit every once in a while.”

Siobhan closed her eyes. Another tear rolled over her cheek, and she shivered when she felt Blackwood lean in closer and wipe it away, his nail scratching past her cheek.

“I will be the subject of your nightmares, defiant little woman. I’m looking forward to our next meeting already. You better prepare yourself,” he chuckled darkly, enjoying how she shivered below him. Then he snapped his fingers, and Siobhan’s eyes rolled back. She slumped down onto the floor again, unconscious from the force of Faustus’ spell.

The warlock smiled down on the mortal. The spellcasting had gone perfectly, even better than he had hoped for. The total control of another person was a powerful ability, and for that reason, he had kept the book locked away in his personal library. _Sometimes, sacrifices needed to be made for the greater good_ , he thought. _Even pitiful beings like you can have their use, it seems, little miss Nash._


	4. Chapter 4

The following weeks, even the students at the Academy of Unseen Arts noticed Faustus’ good mood. No one knew why, but the Priest was exceptionally mild-mannered, even after the disaster that had been the Dark Baptism of the half-bred Sabrina Spellman. Father Blackwood had disappeared into town the day after, and when he came back, he had greeted the teachers in a most unusual way for him - with a smile.

In the solitude of his office, Blackwood pored over the pages of the second book the Nash girl had found him. Most of it was herbal spell casting and more suited for women, but there were one or two potions that had potential to be more of use to him. He hid his smile in his hand when he recalled the image of the terrified, trembling girl as she’d been completely in his power. _Utterly delightful_ , he grinned, _what a sight that had been_.

Someone with a name as hers, tied to the ground and choking under his grasp… It made Faustus feel immensely satisfied. _If only I could do something like this with the entire cursed town of Greendale_ , Blackwood mused. _Claim the valley for us again - no more hiding for the Church of Night._  
Soon again, he would need to pay the girl a visit. She'd been perfect to release his fury upon, and he tried to push away the memory of Sabrina Spellman fleeing from him. Already he was itching to watch someone similar gasp in pain. Maybe he should recommend this method of relaxing to his fellow warlocks, he grinned. Surely they would see the humor of it.

 

* * *

 

The sound of the shop bell was music to Faustus' ears when he entered Cyprian's Antiquities again, but the grin on his lips faded soon after. Behind the counter was a friendly old man, who jovially greeted him. The Nash girl was nowhere to be seen.

"Can I help you, good sir?"

Laugh lines cleaved through the tanned skin of old man, who Faustus presumed was Jeremiah Cyprian, the owner of this dusty store. He hissed through his teeth, annoyed and wondering if his spell had failed.

"I am looking for miss Nash," he curtly replied.

"Oh my, bless that poor girl," Jeremiah exclaimed, shaking his white-haired head.

"She's had an awful accident and is at home, recovering. The doctors say she's lucky not to have brain damage, bless her kind soul."

Faustus winced at the blessing but tried not to show it.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Can you provide me with her address, so I can visit her?"

The friendliness faded from Jeremiah's face, and he eyed his customer warily.

"No can do sir. I don't have the habit of giving out my employees information."

"Oh, I see…" Blackwood smiled most maliciously, "...but I'm afraid I must insist."

 

* * *

 

The house lay at the edge of town, surrounded by several old trees. Elms, an oak and a huge, ancient ash tree that strangely still bore blossoms grew over the small, but pretty house, hiding the roof from view. With some imagination, one could see a green-robed figure in it who was embracing the house.  
Faustus narrowed his head at the scene. The growth around the house seemed familiar, somehow, but he couldn't remember why. He snarled and stepped to the door, shadows of old branched falling over his furrowed brow. A few birds and a bold squirrel were chattering above the warlocks head, and the sweet scent of ash blossoms permeated the area around the door. Against the time Faustus knocked on the door, some of his aggression had disappeared, unbeknownst to him.

“Just a moment,” a tired voice replied.

Faustus smiled. She was inside, a few meters away from him. Soon…  
Both his hands gripped his cane, and he moved his weight a few times while excitedly waiting for the door to open. Through the glass fragment, he saw a shadow move a few times, that finally steered for the door and opened it.

“I’m sorry for the wait, I-”

Siobhan Nass, looking pale and tired, stared at the unexpected visitor. She was clad in a long robe with a variety of flowers stitched on it, covering a pair of shorts and a tank top.

“...Sir Blackwood?”

Her face was a mix of surprise and something else. Was it fear?

Blackwood tried his best to smile friendly to her, and nodded in acknowledgement.

“Hello young miss Nash. I heard you had a terrible accident and wanted to pay you a visit. As a gratitude for your earlier help.”

The surprise made place for confusion on the woman’s face. Her hand went up to the side of her head, where still a few bruises were visible.

“With the new books, young lady?”

“Ahh. Yes.”

Siobhan shook her head, as if to clear up her mind. It seemed she was on verge of remembering something, but she just couldn’t reach it. Yet.

“Can I come in?”

Siobhan tried to smile at her visitor again, but hesitated and frowned.

“I’m sorry I… Yes you can. I’m… Kind of sick. I feel a bit....dizzy right now.”

Faustus couldn’t hide his excitement this time, and he chuckled quietly while he went after the young woman, once more locking the door behind him.

Inside, the house was cool, and the fragrance of the ash tree permeated the wooden walls. Everything seemed to have a sweet, soothing aroma, and the house felt warm and familiar. Faustus looked around more and saw several pieces of art and parchment hanging on the wall, kept safe from the air by glass. The couch had a stitched blanket over it, a bowl of fruit and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich next to it. Seemed like he had interrupted her meal. Perhaps for the best. _Maybe she would puke from the pain this time_ , he grinned. In front of him, the woman guided them to the kitchen and put on the water cooker.

“Can I offer you tea? Coffee? Something else?”

She pointed to an open cabinet on the right of Faustus, which was filled with all kind of pots and trays with neatly written labels on them. Most of the names were in Latin, and of course Faustus could read them. A lot of them were rather potent herbal teas, with effects ranging from inducing sleep to healing arthritis.

“That’s an interesting collection you have there, miss Nash.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she smiled. “My grandmother taught me about this before I moved here. She’s a strong proponent of traditional healing, and I’ve always gotten better with her help. I kept the knowledge up,” she grinned while lifting a cup.

“What’s in that?”

Siobhan cocked her head at her visitor. Seems like she hadn’t expected him to have an interest in her and this particular hobby of hers.

“Oh… Well… Willow bark, blackberry leaf, elderberries, … A couple of other ingredients. Helps with the pain,” she grimaced. When Blackwood kept staring at her, she continued talking.

“The accident at the bookstore? I somehow fell and hurt my head badly. The doctors said I could have amnesia, and possible trauma. If I hurt my head again in the coming days, I could lose some of my motor functions.”

Her voice wavered at the last sentence and she quickly took a sip from her mug, averting her head from Faustus. The warlock frowned at her, realizing he would have to adjust his plans. Choking her again, as fun as that seemed, could make her die already, or cause her to become paralyzed, so he had to be more careful. Very well. He could be more subtle, if he wanted to.

“I’m sorry to hear that, miss Nash. Maybe I can be of assistance?”

Under Siobhan’s curious eye, he dug inside his pocket and retrieved a vial, a dark purple and red fluid swirling around inside it.

“What’s that?”

“A potion I created. Found the recipe in the book you sold me, miss Nash.”

 

Siobhan slowly set her mug down. Ever since she felt the knock on the door, a tiny voice in her head had been telling her something was wrong. That all of this was part of a terrible déjà vu, a bad dream she just couldn’t remember yet. Seeing Faustus Blackwood at her door had unsettled her, but last time she had seen him… It was vague to her, but he had been… Friendly, hadn’t he? So why deny him inside?

The glance he was sending her made her shiver, and the way he offered the potion felt wrong. They were alone in a house away from the town center, the first neighbour half a mile away. Letting this man she barely knew inside might have been a mistake.

“Something wrong, miss Nash?”

Faustus Blackwood’s expression had changed, and he walked closer to Siobhan, slowly but surely approaching her. She instinctively took a step back. Behind her was the rest of the kitchen, and the only door out was on her right, leading to the back hall. If she was fast enough, she could make it to the garden, then run for her bike, then…

Right when she attempted the dash, Faustus’ cane slammed into the fridge before her, blocking her escape route.

“Going somewhere? But I just got here, miss Nash.”

Her throat felt dry when she backed away from Faustus, her heart beating faster. Knives! There was a knife block behind her. If she could grab one of those, then she could defend herself.

Again, Faustus was faster than she was. With two swift steps, he reached her and put his hand roughly around her throat, pushing her against the kitchen counter. His breath wafted over her face, hot and excited.

“You thought you could get away from me again? Pitiful, really.”

Siobhan tried to pry at the fingers around her neck, but his grip was unfathomably strong. She could only whimper and look up at the man towering over her, who grinned broadly at her. It felt as if his nails were drawing blood.

“...Again?”

“Ah, you don’t remember?”

Understanding started to dawn on Siobhan’s scared face, and her eyes widened while Faustus whispered something in her ear, a barrage of memories tumbling back into her mind. Her hands lost all strength and she trembled in Faustus’ grip while she started crying silently. The accident had not been an accident at all. He had been there, and he had laughed at her pain.  
The grip on her throat loosened, and in a perverse sign of comfort, Faustus wiped away one of her tears and licked it up from his finger. He never looked away from her, a sinister shadow pulling over his face.

“... _Now_ do you remember, little Siobhan?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BIG FUCKING TRIGGER WARNING for torture and mental abuse. Seriously, don't read further if you're vulnerable right now.

Siobhan could only nod - she remembered _everything_ . Emotions were stuck in her throat, and she could barely breathe, terrified out of her mind.  
He was in her home. The man who had almost killed her was at the one place she thought she would be safe, under the roof of her ancestors.

“Now, now. Don’t be so sad,” Faustus continued, making a mockery of sounding friendly.

“I’m all too glad you remember. It might make it easier for you, this time.”

Siobhan bit her lip and stared questioningly at the warlock, who was confidently leaning on the kitchen counter.

“...You see,” Blackwood remarked, “I don’t want to kill you. No, no, really,” he chuckled at the disbelief in Siobhan's teary eyes, “You are my little pet rat, I told you that before. I have this little concoction here that I’d like you to try out.”

He rolled the tiny flask around in his fingers, extending his hand to the scared woman in front of him.

“What does it do?”

Siobhan’s voice was barely audible. _She’s learning her place, but still a bit defiant, isn’t she? Not unexpected,_ Faustus mused.

“I’d say it’s none of your business, as I will make you forget after this too. But I might as well tell you. You will temporarily lose your sight.”

This time, Faustus could almost smell her fear, and an euphoric feeling filled his chest.

“I might even be gracious to you today. I was planning on making you drink the whole bottle, which would have made you blind for a week. You may only take a few drops, if you’d like. Your vision will return after a few hours, if you do so.”

Bewilderment and a bit of relief appeared on the shopkeeper's face. Blackwood gestured to a chair, walking back to the middle of the kitchen. He sat himself down and gestured Siobhan closer, frowning angrily when she dawdled.

“May I remind you I have not yet used the previous spells on you, but will not hesitate to do so if you don’t obey me, mortal?”

Siobhan slowly approached the table. He was right, in a way, and she wondered if some of the protection her grandmother told her about was working. She sat down, staring warily at the warlock in front of her. Faustus continued explaining the potion's effects, and she couldn't help but think, _he sure likes talking for someone that said to keep my nose out of his business_.

"...Now you see, there's the problem with that tea you just drank. Some of its ingredients quite clash with what's inside this potion, and it could have side effects. You don’t want that, don’t you?”

Siobhan quickly shook her head.

“That’s why I’m as generous to offer you only this tiny bit.”

Faustus opened the vial and dripped some of the fluid in an empty glass on the table. Her hands shook while Siobhan accepted the glass.

“Can I add some water to it?”

She knew that it would dilute at least some of the effects, and probably would make it easier to swallow. Faustus gave her an annoyed look and pulled out a pocket watch, which he clicked open. After noting the time, he gave her a sharp answer.

“You’ve got 20 seconds - and don’t you dare throwing away any of the contents. You know what will happen then.”

It was impossible for Siobhan to stop herself from trembling when she stood up and walked to the tap. The sound of the water streaming felt alien to Siobhan’s ears, as if she was having an out of body experience. _Mother Ash, please protect me_ , she prayed in silence. _Guard your daughter from evil, as I have guarded you._

No answer came, but the house smelled of blossoms, as always, never fading. When Siobhan walked back to the table and sat down, she wondered what would happen if the potion worked. Faustus eyed her sharply and barked out a one-word command.

“Drink.”

The glass shook in Siobhan's hand while she brought it to her lips and hesitated, taking one last look at the room around her. She might never see it again, after all.

 

Faustus had to remind himself to stay calm, despite the excitement he felt. In front of him, the girl hesitated one last time, and he slammed his cane into the floor. The Nash girl flinched and brought the glass to her lips. The fingers clenching onto his cane went white while she downed the glass of opaque liquid, contorting her face at the taste of it.   
As soon as she swallowed it, Faustus recited the Truth spell again. The girl shivered when she heard the words, by now knowing what they would do.

“Now… I want you to tell me everything that’s happening to you. I need to know all of it.”

She coughed and grabbed at her throat, looking on the verge of tears. _I adore this look on her_ , Faustus thought. _So vulnerable._

“It hurts a bit…” Siobhan started,” ...and it’s very bitter. There’s no way you could conceal this distinct taste.”

Faustus frowned - he hadn’t thought of that. So there would be no way to give this to people unsuspecting.

“What else?”

“I can still see but.. I..”

Her voice faltered, and Siobhan grabbed at the edges of the table.

“My eyes... NO! I can’t… I can’t… ”

Faustus quickly leaned forward and snatched Siobhan’s chin, making her look at him. From close by, he could see her eyes were green, with yellow and brown flecks in them. Her pupils were dilated and her heart beat so fast, he could feel it throb in his grasp.   
The darkness of her pupils slowly started turning grey, then milky white, and a she let out a desperate cry.

"I see it's working," Blackwood smirked, and he released Siobhan, who stumbled back in her chair.

She gasped for air in shocked, tense breaths, and for the first time, Faustus Blackwood wondered if he had gone too far. He watched as she widened her eyes and waved her hands in front of herself, desperate to catch a glimpse of something, but to no avail. Then she put her arms around herself and silently cried, hugging herself while rocking back and forth in her chair.

  
Faustus took some notes in a pocketbook he brought, while keeping watch of the time. For a while, the only sound filling the room was the scratching of his pen, and the soft sound of Siobhan crying.   
Faustus considered her after a few minutes. None of the possible side effects had started to appear, except for maybe…

"Talk to me, miss Nash."

The girl slowly lifted her head, wary as to where he was.

"About what?"

Her voice sounded broken and hoarse from the crying.

"Tell me about your knowledge of Greendale, and specifically witches."

Siobhan slowly started talking, and went in depth about names and places around Greendale. Her voice sounded a little less defeated the more she went on, and Faustus had to admit she knew a lot. For one, she knew the name of Dorothea Putnam, one of the few villagers who had come to the witches’ aid in their peril. All of her knowledge seemed purely historical, and not actual, though. He made another note in his book and frowned. The girl sounded lucid enough to cross out disorientation, but it seemed odd to him that other than the intended blindness, she suffered no side effects.

“Tell me, miss Nash… What do you think about witches now?”

“I hope they’re not all like you.”

Faustus looked sharply at the girl, who grew smaller in her chair, realising the gravity of what she’d just said. She grasped the edges of her robe and pulled it tighter around her, her blind eyes dashing back and forth.

“Don’t compare me to the rest of them,” Faustus growled.

“I’m the High Priest of the Church of Night. I’m Lucifer’s voice on earth. The rest of them are the black sheep, but I lead them.”

Siobhan further cowered in her seat, a scared frown on her face. The warlock leaned back again, satisfied his point had been made.

“Of course, you don’t know who I am. Who walked into your tiny shop that first night.”

No response came, but the girl bit her lip. It seemed something worried her. Faustus grinned. Maybe she’d give him a reason to further toy with her if he asked the right questions. The warlock tested the sharpness of his nails while he thought about what to say next.

“I’m curious. What was your first impression of me?” he prodded, one of his hands silently gliding closer to her.

“I… I don’t want to say that.”

Faustus flinched. Had she just resisted his Truth spell? Or rather found a way around it - still saying the truth, but trying to delay the inevitable. His eyes turned darker when he angrily looked at the blind girl. His voice came out as a growl.

“I’m not giving you a choice. Speak.”

Siobhan strained, trying to keep quiet, but it was no use.

"I thought you were old-fashioned but intriguing. I liked the sound of your voice."

Faustus blinked, unsure of what to say, but soon, an arrogant smile formed on his lips.

"Keep talking."

"I thought you were in a bad mood, nothing more. Your hands both scared and fascinated me. I liked your perfume, too."

Faustus realized that she was still trying to hold back, but he heard the truth behind her words. His eyes went over her figure, measuring her up. A possibility he hadn't thought about yet took root in his mind.   
He got up, his chair dryly scraping over the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: rape, physical abuse.

Siobhan immediately got up, too, and barely kept her balance while stumbling back, trying to find something to hold on by touch. The wall that divided the kitchen and the dinner place slammed against her back, and Faustus put both of his hands next to her. He knew that she could feel where he was, and to his satisfaction, she didn’t try to run away.

“I see I won’t run out of opportunities to entertain myself with you yet, miss Nash.”

Siobhan slowly shook her head. Her whisper was frantic when she tried to defend herself.

“Please… Don’t do this to me. What have I ever done to you that you want to hurt me so badly?”

Faustus smiled and let his finger glide past her chin, the nail leaving a white trail on the soft skin. Siobhan flinched under his cruel caress.

“Whether or not I’ll hurt you depends on you, miss Nash,” Faustus mumbled back in her ear, pressing his nose in her hair.

Her fragrance was utterly sweet, and Faustus sighed in delight. She had probably bathed just before he came, expecting to have a quiet, peaceful day by herself. When he tried to imagine what cries she would make if he took her, his excitement turned into a frenzy.  
His fingers tangled through the hair in the back of her neck, and he took a steady grip on her locks, giving her no room to move.

“Where do you sleep, little Siobhan?”

The Truth spell gave her no choice but to answer, and Siobhan gave it away, feeling physically ill while she spoke.

“Through the door in the kitchen, up the stairs. The big room on the right.”  
Siobhan could feel the hot air of his breath on her cheek while he laughed at her despair, and a painful sting at the back of her head when he forced her to turn around. She couldn’t see much - light and dark, vague shapes, not enough to let her know where she was.

Their steps echoed through the hall when they followed the route she did every day, slowly climbing the stairs while Faustus kept a tight grip on her hair. Siobhan could feel his nails scrape past her neck when she tried to move too fast - a painful reminder that her captor had complete control over her. The drab darkness from the hall changed to vague shapes that Siobhan barely recognized. Faustus immediately pushed her forward into the bedroom on the right, and Siobhan fell onto her knees, crying out when she hit the floor. The door slammed shut behind her and it felt _wrong_ . She never closed the door after herself, as she lived all alone. Now she was trapped.  
Faustus’ feet tapped past her, and she heard the creak of the mattress when he sat down, and the rustling of fabric. Siobhan remained where she was, but adjusted her position so that she could rub her painful knees. It didn’t feel as if they were bleeding, but she certainly would have bruises later.

“Come here.”

Blackwood’s voice was low, barely more than a growl, and Siobhan swallowed heavily. Standing up sent a painful sting through her knees, and she searched for the edge of the bed for support. Soon, the cool, smooth wood of the bedposts hit her fingers and she allowed it to guide her. She was painfully aware of how Blackwood was probably looking at her, enjoying her misery.

Siobhan's fingertips felt the cool cotton sheets pass by, and stopped when she felt the heat of another body. Faustus immediately grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, roughly tearing off the robe she was wearing. Another sob escaped Siobhan when she felt two hands glide past her back and force her closer, a strong thigh commanding her legs apart.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Faustus growled in her ear, his fingers digging painfully hard into her skin. Siobhan was pushed down onto the mattress and tried to crawl away, panic setting in again, but the weight of Faustus crushed her a moment later.

“No, no… You’ve been a good girl up to now. Don’t make me mad,” the warlock hissed, while he pulled away the top Siobhan was wearing. His hands glided over her skin while he bit her neck, making Siobhan shock below him in pain. She yelped when he pulled her up by her hips and forced her to sit on her knees. With one swift motion, Faustus pulled off the last piece of clothing she was wearing, sharp nails digging deep into her hips when Siobhan once more tried to escape him.

A strong hand closed over her neck and tugged the helpless girl up, pulling her back tightly against the naked stomach of Faustus. Siobhan trembled, but held still while rough hands groped her body, parts of it reacting to the violation unwillingly.

“It’s such a shame…”

Faustus’ grip became calmer, almost gentle when he caressed Siobhan’s breasts, his ear nudging past her ear.

“Such a splendid young woman… Why did you have to be such a defiant little mortal,” he sighed, pushing her chin up, all of her body pulled in a tight arc. A pair of experienced fingers glid between her legs and dug themselves into her folds and despite herself, a soft moan parted from Siobhan’s mouth.

“Oh…” Faustus chuckled, all too pleased with that reaction.

A hard tug turned Siobhan’s face to the side, and Faustus tongue licked away the last of her tears, his lips hot and hard on her cheek. The warlock lowered her on the bed again, teeth and tongue further marking her back and shoulders while he pressed his bulge against her body. He groaned and sat up, and from the sound, Siobhan deduced he was removing the last of his clothing. She curled herself up in a ball, trying to cover herself up, but stopped when she heard Faustus growl displeased.

Siobhan’s knees were pulled apart and she could vaguely discern his silhouet above her - her sight was slowly returning. Then Faustus kissed her.

There was nothing gentle about this kiss; it was raw, beast like hunger witch which Faustus devoured her mouth and forced his tongue inside, almost suffocating Siobhan in the process. She whimpered again when her futile attempts at pushing Faustus away were met with him pinning her hands down.

“...Can you see me?”

The Truth spell made the words come out before she even formed a coherent thought.

“Almost. My sight is returning.”

“Excellent,” he hissed in her ear, “I want you to see me when I bury myself inside you, little Siobhan. I want you to tell me when you can see fully again…”

Sharp nails crawled down over her stomach, and Siobhan cried out in pain, frantically trying to close her legs.

“Stop resisting,” Faustus growled, biting her neck, hard, and she shocked once more below him.

“Please don’t hurt me anymore,” she begged, not able to hide the panic in her voice.

“Ahh, but pain…”

Two fingers slipped in between her legs, finding her wet and waiting, and Faustus pushed his digits inside her, laughing when she moaned again while he sucked her neck.

“Pain is but a sweet spice, my little mortal… Let me have you savor some more of it,” he growled.

 

Faustus was careful not to scratch her insides when he pushed his fingers deeper inside the girl. As tempting as it was, he wanted her intact, and his perverse pride wanted to see her squirm out of something else than pain. Many women he’d had, and he knew their bodies well. So he played with the mortal below him, making her dance on the edge between pain and pleasure, and when she finally spoke again, breathless and voice thick with lust, he smiled broadly.

“I can see you…” she softly confessed, her despair clear as day.

Faustus kissed her again, less rough, just enough to color her lips a shade darker, and stroked her hair when he whispered a small word of praise in her ear. Siobhan flinched when his fingers left her, expecting him to hurt her again.  
Instead, he grabbed her wrists and pushed his hips against hers, her soft warmth streaking past his thick shaft. Her pupils were clear again, and she looked hopelessly vulnerable, begging him to stop. A weaker man might have given in.  
Faustus was no weaker man.

Her lips parted in a lamentation when he drove himself inside her, his considerable size forcing her further open than his fingers had, and as wet as he had gotten her, he found himself moaning as well at how snug she fit him.

“Oh miss Nash…” he groaned in pleasure, kissing her forehead, “you please me greatly…”

He pulled back and pushed forward again, deeper, harder, and the girl buried her face against his chest, crying out loudly.

He release her wrists, and her hands weakly tried to push him away again, but all of her force had left her and she merely brushed past his chest, her fists not affecting him in the slightest.

Faustus moaned again when she clenched around him when his fingers groped her breast, and he pushed his hand under her legs, wanting to spear himself deeper inside her. Another thrust, another tug at her legs, and she clenched around him again, moaning as well.

“No… No, please stop!” she cried.

_Defiant to the end, aren’t you, my little mortal?_

Faustus ignored her and sped up, feeling the pressure inside him build steadily. Just a bit more…

The warlock pushed her knees up, finally fully sheathing himself inside Siobhan, and her stomach trembled, her walls clenching onto him like mad. She cried out again, this time not out of pain, and that finally pushed Faustus over the edge as well.

With the hardest thrust he could muster, he slammed himself inside Siobhan and cursed loudly, panting while he spent himself inside her and sank down, letting go of her knees.

 

Siobhan whimpered when the weight of Faustus pushed the air out of her lungs, her legs shaking furiously around his hips. She felt sick in her stomach, the last waves of her violent orgasm fading away and making place for nausea. Faustus breath wafted hot against her, and she tried to concentrate on a figure in the woodwork in the walls, tried to forget how Faustus had looked at her seconds before he lost himself. Almost like a normal lover, almost like he cared about her. All of this was wrong, and her body throbbed and trembled, tired of the abuse she’d endured.

Faustus leaned up and grinned down at her when she met his eyes, two dark pools peering into hers.

“You quite enjoyed this as well, didn’t you miss Nash?”

Siobhan shot him a look of disbelief, and exclaimed when his fingers dug between her legs again, expertly stroking her clit.

“Don’t you dare lying to me, my little Siobhan… You liked what I did to you.”

His eyes were those of a madman, hungry for power, for validation and praise. The spell still had an effect on Siobhan, and she voiced the truth.

“It hurt… But it felt good too.”

Faustus nodded, all too pleased to hear this, from his expression.

“I know… You’re lucky,” he grinned, softly streaking past her breast, his mouth tugging when she twitched, his erection stirring inside her.

“It’s a honor to lie with me, little Siobhan. Me, the most powerful warlock in all of this village…”

Siobhan closed her eyes when he started moving again, her insides burning with his seed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided that I wanted Hilda to play an important part in this fanfic. I love her as a character, so, so much.  
> She's so strong and clever and sweet, and too many people think she's weak at first, only to realize she fed them cyanide almond cookies lol :D (also why the heck does she have a jar full of hands??) 
> 
> So, first introduction of her, and certainly not the last part. Also, a white knight appears! Somewhat. 
> 
> Once again, the names are no coincidence. Liam means "strong-willed warrior and protector".

Night had fallen when Faustus decided he’d finally had enough. He released Siobhan’s locks, after which she sank down and shuddered, exhaustion and agony permeating her every bone. Marks from Faustus’ nails stung all over her, especially on her back. He had liked her the most on her knees, clawing at her spine and hips while he had violated her mercilessly over and over again.

She felt raw and repulsed at the presence of Faustus, who was still catching his breath. With a loud grunt, the latter rolled over and lied next to her.

 

It’d been a while since Faustus felt this good. He reached out to the Nash girl, who had stopped resisting him hours ago.  
A grin split his face when he reminisced the moment she’d broken to his whims. _Something to think back on_ , he decided, while he pulled her closer. She tiredly rolled over, and he leaned on his arm to look down at her.

“Subservient is a good look on you, little Siobhan.”

She blinked at him, but kept quiet.  
Faustus found himself lost in thought while he trailed past the scratches he’d left all over her, a visual memory of where he’d touched her.

“It’s a shame,” he said for the second time that day.

“I’ll have to make you forget again. But I can’t have you run from me, miss Nash. Which I’m sure you would, given the chance.”

He lifted her chin, and she slowly nodded when he looked for confirmation, eyes half-lidded in pain.

“As i thought. No, I can’t have that. An attractive test subject like you is rare to come by, after all.”

Below him, Siobhan hid her face in the sheets, her face contorted at the perverse compliment. _It seems like she’d rather wants this to be over with_ , Faustus grimaced.

“I will be back for you, mortal child,” he whispered at her, “because you’re mine now.”

Then he recited the words that would cleanse her memories of his presence here today. She fell asleep immediately, her breathing faint and almost inaudible.

The High Priest got up and slowly dressed himself, keeping his eyes on the naked unconscious girl. As a warlock, he was granted a vigor and strength above these of the average mortal. He’d exhausted the girl long before he felt himself weaken. _A shame, truly_ , he thought. Part of him liked it when she tried to keep up a brave face, only to be met with his punishment. 

But he would be back, and he’d see how long she’d withstand him then. He bared his teeth at the thought, then left her by herself.

 

* * *

 

 

Autumn progressed steadily in Greendale. Many strange events took place over the course of the next few weeks. 

Hilda Spellman tried not to let it get to her. She straightened her dress and hummed a chipper tune while she got ready for work. Ever since she’d started at Cerberus Books, days had been brighter for her. Her expulsion from the Church of Night didn’t seem as bad as it had before, despite the aversion and shame this brought to her sister.  
The timer downstairs went off, reminding Hilda that she had a pie in the oven. Her singing filled the staircase when she descended, and Zelda Spellman pulled up her eyebrows when her upbeat sister half stepped, half danced through the kitchen, cooing at the marvel she freed from the oven.

“You’re awfully good-spirited for someone in your position, Hilda,” Zelda sneered.

Hilda paused for a moment, then decided to not let this get to her either. Her forest fruit pie smelled devilishly good, and she had a full day of Dr. Cerberus’ company to look forward to. She carefully wrapped the aromatic pastry and left through the front door, sweetly waving her niece Sabrina goodbye when she saw her coming down.

The road to the shop seemed shorter every day, and it wasn’t long before the bell tingled a welcome to her. Inside, Dr Cerberus was already filling the racks, and he greeted her curtly but in kind, curiously glancing at the box Hilda was carrying.

“A surprise,” the witch cheerily announced, giddily scuttling past her boss. Soon after, the store opened, and the first customers started trickling in. A couple of kids from Greendale High stopped by for the newest comics, and after them came the odd few customers who loved Hilda’s coffee like none other. They sat down and quietly read their magazines, the shop filled with a moody coziness. The morning was calm, and nothing troubled Hilda until the next customer walked in.

“Good morning, Dr Cerberus,” a young woman greeted. Hilda turned around, suddenly filled with a sense of dread. She saw Dr Cee nod back and greet a woman in her mid-twenties, making quiet small talk with her before she further walked into the shop. Even someone who wasn’t trained in witchcraft would sense something was off about her. She was pale - too pale - and had dark circles below her eyes. She seemed tense all over, shoulders pulled up as if she was heavily stressed out.  
Hilda looked at her boss and friend, and saw he noticed it, too. In that moment, she decided her peaceful day had lasted long enough.

“Good morning, sweetie,” she started, and almost immediately regretted it. The young woman flinched and stepped back, for a moment looking as if she wanted to run. She corrected herself, and apologized.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I startled. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Her voice was quiet, tired, and heavy with emotion.

“That’s alright sweetheart,” Hilda encouraged her and chuckled apologetically, “I came barging into you all out of nowhere.”

 _Keep it light, don’t scare the poor little thing_. The girl just nodded, eyeing Hilda carefully.

“My name is Hilda. I work here,” the witch continued, offering her brightest smile. “Can I help you with anything?”

The girl helplessly shrugged and looked around the store, bowing her head.

“I usually browse until I find something that I like, and sometimes chat with Dr Cerberus about it. He loves talking about all things creepy around Greendale,” she carefully smiled.

“That he does,” Hilda chuckled back, glancing over to Dr Cerberus. She could see him fathering over this girl, with his kind nature. Hilda returned her attention to her customer, and gently tried to coax a little more out of her. She seemed to have caught the interest of the young woman, because she was staring at her with an inquisitive frown, all of a sudden.

“I could offer you a delicious piece of pie to go while you browse, darling,” she offered.

Apparently that was the wrong move; because the girl flinched again when she heard that.

“...What did you say your name was?”

The witch chuckled nervously. No one had ever asked specifically for her full name like this girl was doing, and she tried to play it off.

“I’m Hilda, dear. Is something wrong?”

“....Hilda, can you please tell me your last name?”

_Why does this girl feel cursed? What did happen to her?_

“I’m Hilda Spellman, dear. Why do you ask?”

The girl averted her head for a second, and then something seemed to dawn on her. She took a step back, and another one, and with an apology that was more of a mumble, she left the store. Her shoulders were pulled up as if she was on the verge of crying.  
Hilda was left behind, staring helplessly at Dr Cerberus, who gave her an equally confused look.

 

* * *

 

 

Tonight was open stage night at one of the local bars, and Siobhan let the occasional false note keep her on her toes, as to not let the clear ones fully soothe her. It was dreary outside, matching her mood closely. For weeks now, she’d been feeling terrible. The blackouts had become more frequent.  
She remembered doing something, and then she woke up in her bed, hurting all over, but not knowing what took place. The place where she ached the most was between her legs, where the skin felt raw and heated. She often had what seemed to be scratches and bite marks all over her. Two times she’d tried to wash blood out of her sheets, terrified by not knowing how they got there. She didn’t seem like the person to hurt herself, but what other explanation was there? These thoughts made Siobhan shudder at the possibilities.  
Her dreams had been completely replaced by nightmares, of pitch black darkness with blood red eyes burning in them, the snarling of a monster echoing behind her while she ran for her life. When she woke of from those horrors, she found her pillow wet with tears and herself out of breath, entangled in her blanket while cold sweat ran down her spine.

In her last dream, she’d seen the beast. It had the body of a goat, the chest of a man, and its face had been that of someone who she’d seen frequently these latest times. Under two grotesque horns swam the contorted face of Faustus Blackwood, grinning madly at her while she screamed as he bit down on her body and devoured her.  
Siobhan’s throat had been hoarse from the screaming that night, and she couldn’t get any more sleep after. She fruitlessly scoured her memory for anything specific, anything that would offer an explanation for this all.  
One detail stuck out to her: Faustus Blackwood had _not_ been friendly the first time they’d met. All the times after, he’d been pleasant and smiling at her, greeting her with earnest excitement.  
But what if…

It was as if her thoughts slammed against a wall when she tried to think about what happened next. She knew this wasn’t natural, and that she should look for help. But who would believe her?

Today was a day she’d needed to see a familiar, friendly face, and while she walked through town, she realized it’d been too long since she talked with Dr Cerberus. He’d been warm and welcoming to her and shared her passion for the darker parts of Greendale’s history, something they could chat hours about. And in comparison to most men in Greendale, he’d been nothing but respectful and kind to her. His store felt like a home to Siobhan. So why did he let that Hilda Spellman work there?  
Nothing but her gut had made her question the woman, who seemed very friendly at first.  
Too friendly, with a sharper mind mulling below the soft, seemingly silly exterior. Siobhan knew outright that the woman was smarter than she presented herself.   
The Spellman name had been a very recurring one in most Greendale history books, and Siobhan got shivers the moment the woman had offered her something to eat. Something about the way it was offered sat uncomfortable with her, as if she’d been through this before…

"The pretty woman in the back!"

Siobhan blinked and looked up from her barely touched drink. On the stage, a guy in his thirties was pointing at her and winked when they made eye contact.

"Don't be shy, I bet you're great at singing!"

Panic settled in when Siobhan realized the open stage also included requests. Someone too dense to realize she wanted to be left alone had invited her up there.  
She shook her head, causing the guy on stage to frown and encourage her more. He got up while he kept talking and put his hand towards her, apparently set on getting her up there with him.

Siobhan’s knuckles turned white as the panic inside her rose, feeling trapped in the room full of people while being singled out. She shook her head again, harder, and tried to form a proper excuse while the guy descended from the stage and started making his way to her. What was his problem?!

He was almost where she was sitting, receiving some mixed encouragement from the other bar goers, when another man stood up and blocked the way.

“How about I volunteer? I simply _love_ singing.”

It was a dry voice, on the verge of sarcasm, and Siobhan tried to recollect who the man was. Dark hair, he was sitting on her right, doing…? She couldn’t recall.

Some muffled protest came, but the man put his arms up and looked around the bar for approval. Some people seemed to recognize him and started yelling loudly, chanting his name.

“ _Liam! Liam! Liam!_ ”

The so-called Liam put his hands on the shoulders of Siobhan’s former wannabe singing partner and turned him around the stage, patting him on the shoulder when the latter said something. The men ascended the stage, and Siobhan could get a better look at this curious Liam.  
He had short brown, half-curled hair and the posture of a miner, as so many in town, but his hands and clothes were clean. His face was friendly, with a strong straight jaw under a pair of grey or green eyes. A leather-hung pendant in the shape of a coin dangled around his neck. He grinned at his singing partner and took the mic.

“Since I was invited up the stage, I think it’s fair I get to choose the song, alright buddy?”

The other guy awkwardly grinned back and gave him a muffled “sure”, after which Liam selected a song on the monitor.

“You know this one, I reckon?”

His partner’s face turned sour, but he nodded nevertheless. Siobhan raised her eyebrow, curious despite her panic just now.  
A few gentle guitar tones filled the room and she stifled her laugh when she recognized the song, letting out smothered giggles.

“ _Hello darkness my old friend…_ ”

A few other people started laughing as well. Siobhan looked back at the stage while covering her grin. This Liam was indeed, quite a good singer, with a warm and pleasant voice, but his partner seemed painfully out of tune with the song and struggled hitting the notes right, making a mess of his parts of the song. The more talented singer then took the lead, constantly encouraging his partner to sing louder and better, which he succeeded in after a while. A few people started singing along against the middle part of the song, and Siobhan relaxed, humming along as the song ended. Somehow, the mood had shifted, and the two singers had actually enjoyed being on that stage.  
The crowd softly clapped and she saw a short-haired girl waving at Liam, who bowed and waved back at her. Then he shook hands with his partner, who grinned despite his earlier embarrassment. They seemed to part amicably enough, given how their duet started.  
Siobhan cocked her head at Liam, waiting to see if he would approach her, but he didn’t. Instead he went to the bar and sat down, talking to what seemed to be two friends of his.

  
Siobhan tried to push away the tinge of disappointment she felt and grabbed her glass, focusing on the slightly bitter and sweet tones of her drink. When the waiter stepped by, Siobhan gave him some instructions and a bank note. She grabbed her book after he left, burying herself in the story about a peculiar dragon that could blow airships to smithereens with his breath.  
Her drink was finished half an hour later, and she decided to quickly pass by the restroom before she left. The ruckus of the bar was muted as soon as she closed the door, and a few chattering girls sat before the mirror, exchanging lipstick and mascara while gossiping. One of them looked up at Siobhan, and she realized that she was the short-haired girl who had waved at Liam earlier. Probably at least good friends with him, who knew what more. She quickly ducked into a stall before anyone could say anything and sat down, rubbing her face. From what she could hear, the other girls had left the restroom shortly after. Siobhan relaxed a bit and unlocked the door, setting her bag next to the mirror and washing her hands.  
When she checked herself in the mirror, the face that looked back didn't seem to belong to her. Grey circles under her eyes, her thick hair now having lost some of its sheen, and the paleness of her skin became all the more apparent in the cold light. She startled when she turned to grab a napkin and saw that the one girl from earlier was still inside, looking at her with her arms crossed.

"Are you insane?"

The tone wasn't unfriendly, but the question was too unexpected, and Siobhan blinked her eyes at the stranger.

"Excuse me?"

The other chuckled and sauntered forward, tilting her head at Siobhan.

"My friend has been hoping for almost an hour now that you'll come to speak to him, yet here you are, about to leave. Well, at least I think you are… Are you? After that whole knight in shining armor thing just now?"

Siobhan lifted her shoulders, smiling apologetically.

"I'm not good company tonight I'm afraid, not even for knights."

The other girl stopped smiling, frowning worriedly instead.

"He won't bite, you know. Liam's a good guy."

“He seems like it, yes.”

The girl’s face split open in a wide grin again, and she leaned forward. A hand was lifted towards Siobhan, and she hesitantly accepted it.

“Name’s Blake,” the girl grinned, strongly shaking her hand.

“Siobhan,” was the soft reply.

“Won’t you give him a chance? I think he’d like that.”

Siobhan hesitated, not sure why Blake seemed so keen on the two of them meeting.

“I… I thought you were a couple or about to be.”

“Ahh. Heheh. No. Liam and I have the same preference,” Blake grinned.

"If things don't work out between the two of you, you can always come to me afterward," she winked.

She patted a baffled Siobhan on the cheek and left the restroom, hips swaying broadly. Siobhan’s reflection chuckled back at her when she shook her head in disbelief and leaned on the washbasin. Then she nodded determined at herself and grabbed her bag, leaving the restroom.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Here's the new chapter :)

She found him at the counter still, his two friends having left by now. Siobhan clenched the strap of her bag, then stepped forward and waved. 

“Nice performance back there,” she smiled carefully. 

The receiver of her awkward opening turned to her and grinned back, putting down his glass and scratching the back of his head. 

“Thank you for the drinks,” Liam chuckled, pointing to the counter, at the beverages Siobhan paid for earlier.  

“Umm… I wasn’t sure if you liked company or not just now, so I left you alone. You seemed to enjoy your book. Hate to disrupt that enjoyment.” 

Siobhan felt her shoulders relax while he spoke, and this time, gave a fuller smile back when she replied. 

“That happens when you read about speaking dragons in the age of Napoleon.” 

Liam’s eyes widened a bit. From this close, Siobhan could see they were green and speckled with brown. 

“Now I need to hear more about that. There’s some room here if you’d like,” Liam said while tapping on a chair next to him. 

“We don’t have to talk about a book,” Siobhan retorted, but accepted the chair and climbed up next to him. 

“Then we can talk about whatever you like,” Liam smiled back at her, a twinkle in his gaze.    
  


The night wasn’t young anymore when Siobhan walked home. For the first time in months, she felt at peace, or at least calm and content. She clenched her phone with her hand, making sure it was still in the pocket of her coat. A new number had been added tonight, and she didn’t want to lose it. 

Talking to Liam had been like breathing. He was funny and clever, eagerly asking her questions and telling her anecdotes about the mines and his life, about his collection of fossils and minerals at home, all dug up and gathered around Greendale. The questions had flowed forth and back, and hours had passed as if they were nothing. Most people had gone home while they talked, joked, started making jabs at each other.    
Finally, a comforting silence fell, and Liam had looked up at Siobhan and asked her if she’d liked to see him again. And then… 

Siobhan softly hummed a nursery rhyme while she ascended the hill to her house, following the curving road to where it split. She kept thinking of his smile, of that thing he did with his eyebrows when she said something that he found interesting.    
It felt like she was back at kindergarten again, when she’d shyly held hands with someone from her class and had almost exploded from nervosity with her first kiss. 

_ You’re not old enough to think like that _ she smiled to herself, but she kept humming while she ascended the stairs and tried to unlock the door.    
Except the door was already open. 

 

A black void stared at her, and Siobhan stumbled back. A burglar? She grabbed her phone, only to discover that her battery ran out. It was dead silent inside. Not even the humming of her fridge was discernible. A power outage. She heard no other sound, and saw no lights. If there was a burglar, they would probably already gone by now, given that it was deep in the night. Last she checked it was past 3 AM.    
Despite this reasoning, Siobhan went around the house and unlocked the shed, grabbing the axe she used for the firewood. It was heavy in her hands, but the weight comforted her. She hesitated for a moment - would she really hurt someone if it came to it? And wouldn’t it be better to go to the neighbours and alert them? 

Siobhan waited for a few more minutes, but the house stayed quiet and dark, without any signs of life. She decided to risk it. 

The back door squeaked softly when she pried it open, and she cursed silently, swearing she’d oil the hinges as soon as she could confirm she was safe. Siobhan entered the house, careful not to bump against something.   
Everything felt too loud - she knew which planks made the most noise, but even stepping around them made the floor creak below her boots. She entered the kitchen and saw nothing had moved from when she was last here.    
She tried to turn on the light, wary of any sound that she might hear, but the power was still out. Another two steps brought her to the entrance of living room, where she kept a flashlight in a drawer. 

A dark figure was sitting on her couch, cocking his head at her as soon as she stepped into view. Siobhan screamed and stepped back, clenching the axe and lifting it above her head. 

“Now, now. Is that a way to greet me, my dear?” 

The low voice, all too familiar, rang in her ears while the memories flowed back. Her grip around the axe weakened and she almost dropped it when she sank through her knees, groaning at the barrage of thoughts forcing themselves inside her head. 

“Welcome home, Siobhan.” 

Faustus snapped his fingers, at which the lights in the kitchen turned back on, together with the fridge. Another one of his tricks that he liked to flaunt, as if to impress her.    
He was leaning back in her couch and had his cane laying over his lap. A dark smile was playing over his face when he took her in while she was lying on the floor, trying to fit the returned pieces in the bigger puzzle. 

“Oh no…” Siobhan whispered when she finally gathered her senses. 

 

“I never get tired of the face you make when your memories return. It’s as if you see the devil himself before you,” Faustus grinned. 

“Aren’t you?” Siobhan blurted out, suddenly furious. 

Faustus raised his eyebrows at her outburst, then thoughtfully spun the cane around between his fingers. 

“In my church, we would consider what you just said blasphemy, little Siobhan.” 

He grinned at her, his teeth bared like fangs. 

“...but from you, I will take that as a compliment. Now, come here. Take your clothes off.” 

Siobhan clenched her fists, wanting to fight back, but remembering all too well that it was no use. She stepped closer while she unbuttoned her dress, trying to swallow her tears. 

“You seem tense tonight. How come?” 

Faustus leaned back in the couch, and Siobhan realized he was, for some reason, in a good mood. 

“Why do you even ask?” Siobhan quietly replied. “You don’t care about how I feel.” 

Faustus put his cane to the side and took off his jacket, pensively measuring Siobhan up. 

“It seems like not all fight has left you. And here I thought I’d broken you.” 

Siobhan shivered when she remembered what he did to her, the first night he came to her house. 

Faustus reached out to her and grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him. Her dress was only half-open at this point, and he slowly slipped his hand inside. 

"I like it when you have a bit of bite.” 

She gasped when his nails dug in her side, then slid over her back and pulled her into him, forcing her to lean over the couch. Faustus pulled down the dress, revealing Siobhan’s bare shoulders. He leaned in and stroked her neck, his teeth ragging over her skin until she whimpered. This was one of his favorite games; making her body react to what he did to her, despite her aversion of it all. Siobhan closed her eyes and endured it, tried to think of something else, of something happier. Someplace far away from here, where Faustus couldn’t reach her, where she was safe. 

Siobhan saw Liam’s face hovering before her eyes and focused on that. His smile. The wrinkles next to his eyes when he laughed, his smirk when he joked, the curiosity in his eyes, his voice. It wasn’t enough, but it helped, and she kept her eyes closed while Faustus harshly tore away the rest of her clothes. The marks he made on her limbs stung, and she knew she would find blood stains on her sheets again in the morning.

Then he stopped, and she blinked in confusion, finally opening her eyes. Faustus sat there and stared at her, a malicious curiosity burning in his eyes. As always, he held her hair in a tight grip, bending her as he pleased. His hand hovered above her chest, finally settling down between her breasts and resting above where her heart beat furiously. 

“I’m intrigued. Earlier you mentioned that I don’t care how you feel. You know that’s not true. I take  _ great _ interest in how I make you feel. Don’t you think you’re being a little… Ungrateful?” 

Siobhan swallowed hard. 

“Someone who cared wouldn’t make me bleed and torture me. Wouldn’t make me wish I was  _ dead _ .” 

Faustus paused, not even flinching at the vicious hate in her words. 

“Very well. Show me how you would like it instead.” 

 

Faustus felt himself in a strange mood. Every time he came to this house, the smell of the blossoms seemed to lift his troubles, and this particular girl gave him exactly what he needed. Sure, she tried to resist him from time to time, and he couldn’t get too angry at her for that. So why not humor her this one time? 

On his lap, the girl stared at him in disbelief. 

“You can’t be serious. What did you just say?” 

Faustus felt his irritation grow. 

“Don’t test my patience, miss Nash. I said, treat me as you would treat a lover. Show me how you would like me to treat you.” 

She grew ashen and tried to shake her head, but Faustus decide he’d had enough. The spell came easily now, given how many times he had practiced it on her. The whispered words rolled over his lips and the girl stiffened in his lap, trembling but not able to move unless he allowed her to. This time, he let her breathe. 

 

Her mind screamed as Faustus took her body over. Siobhan tried to move until it felt she was pulling her muscles apart, but it was no use. Every limb was held in an iron grip, and she was fully at Faustus’ mercy again.    
“Start.” 

Time seemed to slow down as she bent forward and tenderly took Faustus’ head between her hands and kissed him passionately. She imagined crushing his skull, scratching bloody lines over his cursed  face, but all he let her do was caress his hair and roll her hips against him until she was brimming with hotness and want. 

Faustus moaned below her, and Siobhan wanted to laugh in her desperation. She knew she could bring someone pleasure, but this was worse than her nightmares. She wanted nothing of this, yet she had no choice. It was as if her hands were those of a stranger when she unbuttoned his jacket and kissed Faustus’ neck while her fingers slipped in between his legs. He was rock hard, throbbing under her soft grip, ready to pierce her down. 

“Tell me what you want me to do.” 

His voice was low and raspy, eager to proceed. And Siobhan told him. Her darkest, deepest secrets and desires, she spilled out, and Faustus acceded.   
He had his arms around her when she cried out and trembled in his lap, and she didn’t protest when he got rougher, finishing himself off inside her. For a while, nothing was heard except the sounds of both their ragged breathing. Finally, Faustus pushed her down, looking utterly smug and satisfied. 

“Now, was that so bad, my little Siobhan?” 

Siobhan shook her head slowly, relieved at not being covered by bite marks and scratches this time. Faustus chuckled, looking all too full of himself. 

“Let’s see what more we can do…” 

He descended upon her, and after he kept her on the edge, Siobhan screamed his name when he pushed her over it. She hated herself for being grateful he was so nice to her tonight, and she cursed his laugh when her memories were wiped, her eyes falling shut until all was left was darkness. 


End file.
